


left an impression on my heart

by d0nquix0te



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0nquix0te/pseuds/d0nquix0te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles are best friends who accidentally kiss sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	left an impression on my heart

1\. 

Stiles can see his mom and dad in the kitchen through the window that looks out over the backyard. His dad, clad in uniform, leans down to peck his mother on the lips and she lifts a hand to grip his arm as she kisses back. Stiles grins at them from the backyard and Scott uses his distraction to hit him with his stick.

“Got you,” Scott says smugly. “I’m the pirate king.”

Stiles flails his own stick in Scott’s direction, squinting in the rising sun behind him. “Are not.” He drawls out the ‘are’ like a pirate surely would and their stick-swords clash once again. “You don’t even have an eye patch.”

“Neither do you!” Scott insists, squealing as he nearly misses one of Stiles’ swings. His breath is becoming heavy and laboured from Stiles’ new stream of determined attacks and while Stiles is proud of himself for countering the assault, he doesn’t like it when Scott gets short of breath, so he backs off. 

Scott looks grateful for the rest and Stiles smiles. 

“Let’s make eye patches!”

Brimming with excitement, they drop their sticks and scramble back over to the house, both of them fitting their fingers into the handle of the sliding screen door. By the time they’re kicking off their shoes, Stiles’ mom is there and smiling down at them. “No more sword fights?” she asks. 

“We aren’t real pirates until we have eye patches,” Stiles answers, placing a hand over one of his eyes to further his point. 

“I think we have exactly what you need to fix that!” his mom says. Stiles and Scott follow her into the living room where she opens the craft cabinet and takes out the supplies. They bounce around the room happily and then sit down when Stiles’ mom starts laying out the materials. 

The next half hour is spent cutting felt and measuring proper lengths of string to put together the pieces of their eye patches. Scott wears his over his right eye so Stiles puts his on the same side and then they giggle at how they both look. 

“I’m still going to win,” Scott says. 

“Not if I do first,” Stiles replies. 

They race each other to the back door and Stiles calls out, “Thanks mom!” before they return to the backyard. 

Scott does win again but Stiles swipes at him even after the round should have been over and insists that real pirates would cheat all the time so it still counts. They decide they can both win. When they’re flopped over in the grass, side by side, Stiles rolls close and presses a clumsy kiss to Scott’s lips. 

Scott blinks up at him in confusion, picking at a blade of grass in his fingers. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Stiles tells him in an exasperated tone. “Duh.”

“Oh.”

“Mom and dad kiss before dad goes to work,” Stiles explains. “They’re best friends.”

“My parents don’t do that,” Scott says, turning onto his side so he can look at Stiles easier.

Stiles frowns. “Maybe you just don’t see them.”

“Maybe,” Scott shrugs. “Want to play Pokémon?”

2.

“I heard Lydia’s having a Christmas party. Do you think she’ll invite us?”

Scott pushes his locker closed and shoots Stiles a look. “Lydia who? I’ve never heard of this Lydia before.”

Stiles shoves his shoulder, but not too hard, because their homeroom teacher got mad at them for play fighting in the halls last month. The next time they’re caught will be the first detention of Stiles’ school career and he wants to avoid it as long as possible. “You’re a sarcastic jerk.”

“You’re a smitten jerk,” Scott counters. He hikes his backpack higher on his shoulder and then they start walking to their first period history class together. 

“Shut up. So, party? What do you think it’ll be like?”

“I don’t know, like a popular person party.”

“So probably no Nintendo?”

Scott chuckles and shakes his head. “Probably not. Is that really a party you want to go to?”

Stiles scoffs, looking affronted. “This is a Lydia Martin party, I don’t care what happens. I want to go. I’d watch all the chick flicks for Lydia.”

“Disgusting,” Scott teases. Stiles has been talking about Lydia for what must be years now and Scott has tried his best to be encouraging about it, but it isn’t easy. Lydia hasn’t so much as looked in Stiles’ direction, let alone spoken to him, and he isn’t sure how to break the news to his best friend that it’s much more likely that the entire seventh grade will get an invite except the two of them. 

“Just because you haven’t successfully navigated puberty yet…” Stiles starts, but they’ve reached their classroom.

Someone yells “Mistletoe!” from inside and Scott and Stiles look at each other before raising their eyes to the doorframe above their heads. 

Their history teacher, who has been wearing Christmas sweaters ever since Halloween was over and has been slowly filling the classroom with wreaths and Christmas lights, has put plastic mistletoe over the door and Scott and Stiles are standing under it. 

A girl sitting near the door informs them, “We’ve been waiting for two people to walk in at the exact same time,” in between bouts of laughter. 

“Of course it would be the conjoined twins,” says Jackson Whittemore from a few desks away. “They must be joined at the brain because neither of them uses more than half of it at a time.”

Normally Stiles would inform Jackson of just how much a person can use their entire brain at one time but he’s too busy moving to get out of the doorway. Scott reels him back in, though, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Come on, dude, where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“It’s over by my desk, just let me go get it,” Stiles says, struggling in Scott’s strong grip. 

The students sitting near the door are all laughing at them. Jackson rolls his eyes. At the front of the classroom, their history teacher is beaming at her students getting into the festivities. 

“They’ve all been waiting for this, we can’t let them down, Stiles,” Scott says, holding back laughter of his own. Stiles groans in resignation. 

Now that Stiles is more compliant, Scott moves his hand to hold his face instead, leaning in to give him a firm, closed lips kiss. Stiles doesn’t respond other than to flail his arms and Scott smirks even as they’re still pressed together. Once he decides he’s tortured Stiles enough, he pulls away and steps into the classroom. 

There’s clapping and laughing and some of the girls whisper to each other behind their hands. Stiles stumbles in after Scott and they make their way to their desks side by side. “You suck,” he tells Scott. 

“A kiss is no big deal. I’m your best friend, remember?” Scott says with a wicked grin. 

“Oh my god, you’re never going to forget that, are you? How do you even remember that, we were like five.”

Scott laughs. “Left an impression on my heart, dude.”

“Shut up.”

Their teacher shushes the class and starts the lesson, rescuing Stiles from further mortification. 

3.

They never made it to the Lydia Martin Christmas Party of seventh grade, but now Scott and Stiles are on the high school lacrosse team. They’re benchwarmers, sure, but when someone calls for a post-season victory party, they two of them are begrudgingly included. 

It’s not just the team; it’s the team and their girlfriends and all the spectators that joined the celebration in school spirit. Scott and Stiles are by far the least popular people in their team captain’s enormous house and Scott has suggested that they just leave, but Stiles is determined. 

“This could be our way to the top,” Stiles yells over loud music and then takes a drink of his Mountain Dew, facial expression resolute. Getting on the team hadn’t done much for their popularity but if they can get the right people to stop being indifferent to them, they can still make it work. Stiles is fueled by competition, because not only have some of the seniors taken Jackson under their wing, Jackson has also somehow won over Lydia Martin. The ten year plan had to go through some revision but it only makes him more determined. 

Scott follows Stiles through the crowd, resigned to the duty of serving as a good best friend and wing man, but even when someone bothers to acknowledge them when they approach, it’s nearly impossible to hold a conversation over the music. Most people are dancing and drinking or playing beer pong in the basement game room. Stiles feels like he’s in a teen drama movie. 

He hasn’t seen Lydia in half an hour and the only person on the team who’s spoken to them outside of the necessary, Danny Mahealani, is very focused on dancing with one of their junior teammates. At least one of them is having good luck.

Scott nudges him towards the basement stairs and Stiles doesn’t bother to fight it. It’ll be quieter down there and he’d rather watch a bunch of seniors get drunk over a ping pong table than watch everyone paired up on the living room dance floor. 

The basement is cozy looking and the two of them claim an empty spot on the floor amidst a group of people relaxing. A few of them are passing a joint between them and it leaves a foggy haze in the air around them. Stiles wonders, not for the first time, if their team captain’s parents even care what their son and his friends are doing to the house. 

“McCall,” one of the guys greets, only offering a nod at Stiles in turn. Stiles rolls his eyes but he’s used to how no one can remember his last name the first few times they hear it. 

“Stiles,” he supplies. 

“Right, Stiles.” The guy says his name slow, rolling his tongue on the L. Stiles is pretty sure the guy won’t remember this conversation tomorrow. 

A girl across from them finishes off a beer and waves the empty bottle above her head before dramatically placing it on the floor in the middle of the group. 

Her friend mutters, “Fuck yes,” beside her. 

Stiles amends his earlier thought: they’re definitely in a teen drama movie. But he’ll go with it, they have nothing to lose. Scott groans but he doesn’t move either. 

“Who wants to spin first?” the girl asks, grinning. 

Her friend leans forward and gives the bottle a good spin and it lands on the guy to Stiles’ right. The two of them meet half way across the circle without hesitation and start to kiss, sloppy and noisy. Scott and Stiles share a grimace. 

The first girl cackles and makes them break apart eventually, joking that maybe they should play seven minutes in heaven instead if they’re going to carry on like that. 

They go clockwise around the circle and Stiles figures this would be much more interesting if they actually knew the people they were playing with and if the bottle would stop spinning right past them, but then it’s his turn to spin. First name basis or not, he’s still about to kiss someone in the next few seconds and that holds his attention.

He reaches for the bottle and spins. Everyone in the group watches lazily as it slows down on its way back to him and Stiles worries that it’s going to stop there. It would be just his luck if he got himself in a game of spin the bottle. 

But the bottle keeps going long enough to get just past him and land pointing at Scott instead.

“Dude,” Scott groans and the group chuckles. 

“Don’t you ‘dude’ me, this is the best possible outcome. We barely have to move,” Stiles jokes, gesturing at how they’re already so close, sides pressed up against each other. “No awkward crawling across the circle for us, you should be thankful.”

Scott rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Stiles figures that’s his cue to get on with it. 

It’s ridiculous that Stiles already knows which direction Scott tilts his head when he kisses and can accordingly tilt the opposite way. In seventh grade they’d awkwardly met each other head on before Scott adjusted but Stiles remembers it so well that he’s prepared this time. Two years have passed and neither of them have been kissing anyone else to replace the sensory memory of each other’s lips. 

It’s part of the game to make it an actual kiss so Stiles parts his lips just enough that they slot together, pushing it far beyond kids playing or preteens joking around. Scott responds after a second, pressing even closer. Neither of them know what to do after that though, lack of experience and mild awkwardness holding them back. Rather than going overboard or messing up, Stiles pulls away and then smirks before giving Scott another cheeky peck. 

“You two are cute,” a girl on Scott’s other side comments and both of them jolt. 

“Cute best friends, yes,” Stiles agrees. “We’re going to be in the yearbook under ‘most likely to be BFFs forever’.”

“Isn’t there already a ‘forever’ in ‘BFF’?” Scott asks, derailing the point. 

“Oh my god, Scott.”

“Cute,” one of the guys in the circle agrees and Stiles wishes he’d agreed when Scott suggested they go home an hour ago. 

4.

It’s been a laid back summer, at least in comparison to how their sophomore year of high school was. By some miracle they’ve both made it out alive and passed all of their exams too. Scott has taken on more shifts with Deaton for the summer and sometimes Stiles goes in with him, planning to drill the veterinarian for any emissary information he’s willing to part with. He’s not always successful but he doesn’t mind just hanging around and heckling Scott while he cleans dog cages anyway. 

Oddly enough, they’ve spent most of the summer alone. Last summer it would have been normal but this summer they know so many more people – they might even say they’re part of a pack, despite it not being a conventional one. But Allison and her dad have shut themselves away somewhere, they have no idea what Lydia or Jackson are up to, and Boyd and Erica are still missing. Isaac is around sometimes but he spends most of his time between Derek and searching for his two friends. Stiles doesn’t even want to think about Peter being alive again. 

Any camaraderie they might have forged with the rest of the group has been broken for one reason or another. 

So the two of them hang out constantly, choosing one of their houses on the fly and doing the normal things they used to do during sleepovers before they learned werewolves were real. 

When their fingers are stiff from gripping XBOX game controllers, Scott brings a movie up on his computer and they sprawl across his bed to watch, limbs bumping into each other until they get into a comfortable position. When Stiles keeps shifting every other minute, Scott shoves a pillow into his face. 

“I’m restless, okay,” Stiles says before playfully elbowing Scott in the throat.

Scott makes a choking noise and kicks at Stiles’ shin, careful to keep his strength strictly on the human spectrum. “Why’re you restless?”

“Hm, I don’t know man, maybe because we spent all of last term chasing a murderous lizard around town? Now we don’t even have lacrosse to expend our energy. I’m crawling in my skin.”

“Relax.” Scott punches him with the pillow again. “That’s what summer vacations are for and I’m pretty sure we deserve the break.”

“Says the guy who’s running some kind of intensive study and exercise routine every morning.”

“Yeah, because if I don’t, I’ll start failing classes again. Take it easy.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs. He lays his head down on the pillow that’s now in his possession and tries to keep his eyes on Scott’s computer. It’s an alright movie but now that real life might as well be a B-rated horror flick, it’s hard to watch objectively. One week they’re watching actors in a fake setting, the week after they could be fighting rogue omegas or something worse. 

He lasts fifteen minutes and then he rolls himself right off the bed, unable to stand lying still a moment longer. 

“Oh my god,” he growls from the floor, hearing Scott sigh from somewhere above and to the left. “Can we just go for a drive or something?”

Scott gets up reluctantly and stops the movie. “Only if we can take my mom’s car.”

“That sounds like some pretty clear discrimination against my jeep, dude. I’ll have you know it’s only stalled once this week.”

“Car,” Scott says. “Come on.”

Stiles forces himself up from Scott’s bedroom floor and follows his best friend down the stairs. Scott grabs the car keys and they make their way outside into the warm night. It’s become instinct for Stiles to look at the moon every time he goes out at night, though he isn’t sure why. Scott hasn’t acted out on the full moon for ages and the only other werewolf they see is Isaac, who seems to have found an anchor of his own. 

The sky is clear and the moon is a week or two past being full. They get into the car and Stiles rolls the window down before Scott has even started the engine. “Where do you want to go?” Scott asks. 

“Don’t know, anywhere?”

Scott doesn’t bother asking for something more specific. He pulls out of the driveway and picks a direction. Stiles reaches out to turn on the radio and then settles back against the seat, sticking his arm out the window to feel the rush of air as they drive. 

“Maybe we should look for Erica and Boyd,” Stiles says after a few minutes, glancing at Scott in the corner of this eye to gauge his reaction. 

“Look for them where? I don’t know their scent like Isaac and Derek do. They probably just skipped town anyway.”

“What if they didn’t though? Just feels like we should do something. If there’s something out there, you wouldn’t want Isaac to run into it while on his own, would you?”

That gets Scott’s attention. His brow furrows and Stiles smirks to himself in victory. But then Scott shakes his head, “Bad guys don’t just lurk. If there was something in town, we’d know already. And who would really blame Erica and Boyd for leaving, anyway?”

“Stubborn,” Stiles admonishes. 

“It’s a trait I learned from you,” Scott says, teasing but with a hint of fondness. “It’s just… snooping around could be dangerous.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“And being in danger should bring up a warning sign! You don’t even think twice about it anymore.”

“No time for thinking twice,” Stiles shrugs.

“That’s why, for once, I’m doing the thinking for you. My summer task is studying, yours is staying out of trouble.”

Scott chances a look to the passenger side of the car and sure enough, Stiles is looking at him like he’s crazy, but also like he’s fitting something together in his mind.

“I thought you just didn’t care,” Stiles say slowly. 

“About you? Are you serious, Stiles?”

“No!” Stiles cuts him off. “No, I know. I thought you didn’t care about Erica and Boyd. I mean, we’ve had our differences so who knows. Didn’t think it had something to do with me instead of them.”

Scott looks back at the road, realizing he’s driven out to the preserve and turned onto dirt roads by force of habit. 

“I hope nothing happened to them, but if something did, I wouldn’t want you, or Lydia or anyone mixed up in it too.”

After that, Stiles decides to let it go and Scott doesn’t add anything else. They drive in silence, mostly comfortable as they both get lost in thought. Stiles feels calmer, less like he needs to jump out of his skin, and Scott feels like he’s gotten a weight off his chest. Scott drives them through the back forest roads until there’s no more road to follow and he pulls up to a clearing. “Turn back or hang out for a bit?” he asks. 

Stiles answers by opening his door and stepping out. Leaves and twigs crunch under his feet as he circles the clearing while Scott leans against the hood of the car and watches him. Eventually, Stiles stops walking and lets himself topple over into some tall grass. 

“Shouldn’t you be the stir-crazy one?” Stiles keeps his voice at a normal volume, knowing Scott would hear him just fine over the distance of the clearing. “Don’t you have the urge to get on all fours and run off into the trees?”

Scott laughs. “Not really. Maybe that’s more of a pack activity and I’m missing out.”

“I’d offer, but running back and forth around a lacrosse field is not the same as going wolfy in a forest. Sorry, buddy.”

“S’okay. Have you had enough excitement for the night?” 

“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin if we don’t get back by midnight?”

Scott fishes his phone out of his pocket and the screen lights up the area around him. “It’s quarter to one.”

“Whatever, the reference still stands.” Stiles gets up, brushing the dirt off his pants, and walks back over to the car. “Let’s go, Cinderella.”

Scott rolls his eyes and slips back into the driver’s seat. They chat and sing along to some songs on the radio the whole way back to Scott’s house and Stiles actually feels like he could sleep soon instead of lie awake with a racing mind. At the very least, he feels settled for the rest of the night. 

Together they return to Scott’s bedroom, silently falling into a routine they’ve been familiar with for years. They take turns in the bathroom, Scott closes the window and Stiles turns off the light. They get into Scott’s bed together because it just doesn’t make sense to deal with sleeping bags when they can still both fit side by side like they did when they were kids. Neither of them mind when they accidentally bump into each other. 

Stiles flops onto his back, one of his arms laying comfortably across his stomach and Scott rolls towards the middle of the mattress. What Stiles doesn’t expect is Scott leaning over even further and pressing a kiss to his lips, gentle and without preamble or hesitation. Scott kisses Stiles like it’s something they always do along with saying their goodnights. 

When Scott pulls back and looks down at him, it takes a moment for it to sink in. Stiles is left staring up at him with wide, confused eyes until Scott suddenly looks shocked, jaw dropping. 

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Scott stammers. 

“You’re sorry?” Stiles wheezes in response. If anything that makes him more confused than before.

Scott quickly pulls away and shifts to the very edge of the bed, tense and looking uncomfortable. “It was instinct, sorry! I think it’s just, when Allison and I weren’t supposed to be dating we met in the forest a lot and being out there tonight maybe reminded me of that and I’m not saying I thought you were Allison, it was just like… muscle memory, I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, looking at the ceiling. “I’m the one who’s supposed to ramble.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, dude. Uh, it’s fine, I guess. Kind of weird but whatever. You’re used to having a steady girlfriend to kiss goodnight. Understandable.”

Scott groans and smacks both his hands over his face. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Stiles says, finally turning his head to look at Scott again, his awkwardness beginning to recede. “Well, sometimes you are but it was an honest mistake. And it’s not like we haven’t kissed before. It’s becoming some weird pattern.” He laughs, sounding a little forced, but Scott relaxes at the sound anyway. 

“Yeah, it’s totally weird, isn’t it?”

Stiles shrugs. “Think I’m starting to get past the weirdness, actually. Maybe we are destined to be best friends who accidentally kiss sometimes.”

Scott turns his face into his pillow and groans again. Stiles actually cracks up at that, finally completely relaxed again. “You’ll get over her, dude, you just need a bit more time.”

Scott grumbles something else into the pillow but then he moves into a more comfortable position, leaving a larger space between them than they would usually bother with. Stiles doesn’t mention it or press the issue, they’ve been good friends for way too long to let it bother them. 

“Goodnight,” Stiles says lightly, like he always does when they sleep over at each other’s house.

“Goodnight,” Scott replies, and by morning it’s forgotten. 

5.

Once everyone is safely out of the destroyed nemeton cellar, Stiles throws his arms around Scott and squeezes him tight in a fierce hug. The group of them are all exhausted and covered in dirt, aching to just get home so they can clean up and recover from the night’s events, but Stiles needs Scott in his arms more than he needs anything else. 

Scott hugs him back just as close. “I’m glad you and your dad are okay,” he mutters into Stiles’ shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Seriously, man? Oh my god,” Stiles laughs. “All I had to do was hold a beam up with a baseball bat. You were the one in a showdown between a darach and a demon wolf, if anyone should be glad for their best friend’s mortality rate I think it is me.”

“Shut up,” Scott says, because it’s easier than finding the words that will convey how worried he’d been or how grateful he is to have Stiles helping him every step of the way, through everything. When every instinct had made him want to search for his mom instead of meeting back with Deucalion, knowing Stiles would get there was what made it possible to do his own part of the plan. And Stiles had pulled through like he always does.

He feels another hand on his back and looks up to see his mom beside them, smiling warmly at the both of them. The Sheriff is right beside her, looking far calmer than Melissa had looked after her first confrontation with the supernatural world. Mostly they both look tired. 

“We have room at home for two more,” Melissa says, looking away from Scott to give the Sheriff a significant look. 

The Sheriff nods his agreement. “If you don’t mind having a full house.”

“A full house actually sounds really great right now,” Melissa laughs.

Scott and Stiles finally let each other go and Scott moves to hug his mom too. “Thanks, mom,” he says. 

“Of course, Scott. Let’s all get home.”

Beside them, Derek is offering to drive the Argents home. Neither of them looks pleased with the idea but it’s the best option left to them and Chris is starting to resign to the idea of working together with Derek when it’s necessary. 

Isaac pulls away from the group and steps over to the McCalls and Stilinskis. He looks at Scott when he speaks. “I’m going back with Derek, to see how Cora’s doing. If that’s alright?”

Scott nods. “Yeah, of course, just come over later if you get tired of them, okay?”

Isaac nods back, grinning. “I will. Just want to check in with Cora first.” 

After they say their goodbyes, Isaac goes back to Derek’s car and the group heads off, leaving the rest of them to Stiles’ dented jeep and Melissa’s car that Scott drove over in. Scott and Stiles exchange a fist bump before the families get in their respective vehicles and drive to the McCall house.

Melissa gets her first aid kit out and cleans up the bumps and scratches, then shines a light in Stiles’ eyes and asks him a variety of questions to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion from his crash. The four of them wash up and change into bed clothes. 

They set up the guest bedroom for the Sheriff and there’s another round of hugs before everyone is willing to go to bed. “We’re going to talk about this tomorrow,” the Sheriff promises Stiles, who laughs nervously, though mostly as a joke. He’ll tell his dad anything he wants to know now, everything that might help him be prepared for whatever comes next. And this time, Scott and Melissa will be there to help him explain it right. 

Stiles closes Scott’s bedroom door behind them and then he leans back against it, watching as Scott turns the lights off. 

“Scott,” he says. 

Scott looks over at him, concern flashing over his face. “Yeah?”

Ridiculously, Stiles doesn’t know what to say. He can’t figure out what he’s feeling, not precisely. His chest hurts and he can feel the darkness but there’s something else and it makes him want to reach for Scott, pull him close again. It’s an ache that he’s felt ever since the roof of the hospital, and a breathlessness that he’s been feeling for even longer. 

His silence makes Scott look even more concerned. He walks back towards the door. “Stiles?”

Stiles grabs the front of Scott’s t-shirt as soon as he’s close enough and just holds on, letting out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe it’s all over,” he mutters. “We actually made it through all this shit.”

“Yeah, we’re good for now. We made it,” Scott agrees. He lifts his hands to Stiles’ wrists and leaves them there. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I am, why wouldn’t I be? As we just discussed, we’re still alive somehow. I’m great.”

“Well, you kind of look like you’re going to be sick.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and thumps his head back against the door. When he says nothing else, Scott slides his hands further along Stiles’ arms until he reaches his shoulders, gripping them and pulling Stiles closer. Stiles stumbles away from the door, hands fumbling in Scott’s shirt, until they’re only a couple inches apart. 

Scott says, “You’ll feel better after you get some sleep. Come on.”

Stiles closes the rest of the space between them and lightly brushes his lips over Scott’s. He can feel it when Scott inhales sharply and then presses closer to return the light kiss. Calmness settles over him and his grip on Scott’s shirt relaxes, hands lying flat against his chest instead. They pull away, gazes meeting. 

A smile spreads across Scott’s face and Stiles immediately returns it. “Right, you said something about sleep?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Scott nods. “Talk in the morning?”

“Sure, we can talk tomorrow. I’m so freaking tired.”

It feels completely normal to climb into bed together, even if holding hands on the way is something new, and it feels familiar to share another quick kiss before lying down, even if none of their previous kisses happened quite like this. They both sleep on their sides, facing each other, and their hands touch where they’re resting on the bed between them.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://pvtmckay.tumblr.com/)


End file.
